Tomorrow Came A Bit Early
by SeraphimeRising
Summary: Draco hadn't expected tomorrow arriving a bit ahead of schedule. Though it still didn't mean he was ever going drinking with Gryffindors again. Not in this lifetime.


**Warning: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money.**

* * *

**Tomorrow Came A Bit Early**

Draco hadn't expected tomorrow arriving a bit ahead of schedule. Though it still didn't mean he was ever going drinking with Gryffindors again. Not in this lifetime.

It was official.

A very large and very loud band had taken up residence inside Draco's head overnight.

He was never going drinking with his boy- no, lover's friends again. Ever. Draco didn't care what Ron said or dangled in front of him in bribes. Nothing was ever going to get him to just go for 'just one pint' again. Now he just needed Ron to retrieve him some hang-over potion he was sure that the man kept in stock here in his flat as pints with his friends were an almost daily occurrence. Reaching out, he blindly searched for Ron with his hand, however there was no body to be found next to him. With a loud groan, which he instantly regretted, he opened his eyes slowly only to find he was completely alone.

He had never woken up alone before in Ron's flat. More than one time, he had accused the man of not trusting him. It had taken Ron two weeks to convince him to stay over again after that first fight. Now a few months down the road, Draco couldn't remember what had convinced him to come over but he did know, he still didn't have an answer as to why he never woke alone when he stayed at Ron's.

And of course the first time would come, when he needed his boy -no lover's assistance. Some boy -no lover, Weasley was turning out to be.

* * *

Draco wasn't sure how long he just laid there in bed. He was sure it was a very long time as he attempted to will away the hangover. The expectation of Ron returning to his bedroom at any given second became the foundation of him just waiting a little longer. That and the simple thought of calling out to Ron to have the man fetch him the potion he needed only turned his stomach and added to his headache. So he had vetoed that in order to find out if his will was more than the headache could contend with.

It wasn't.

All in all he was probably in worst shape now than he had been when he first awoke. Groaning loudly, which he immediately regretted, he pushed his body up into an upright position. His vision decided it was the perfect time to take a swim. He wanted to bury his head back into the pillows and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, that probably wouldn't rid him of his hangover emyet/em.

So he tried to sit up and that proved to be the single worst decision he had made so far this morning. This time his vision didn't decide to swim; it started to bloody blink like the fairies in that park Ron dragged him too.

Collapsing back onto the bed, he swore, he was never drinking with Gryffindors again.

hr

His mind definitely wanted the bed with all it's warm covers and pillows.

His body, on the other hand, decided it wanted loo.

Deciding to skip 'the let's go slow' method of getting out of the bed, he went straight for the falling out of bed.

A groan escaped his lips as his hands smacked and knees bruised against the hardwood floors. Luckily though, the pain kept the blinking fairies away.

With the umpteenth curse escaping his lips regarding Gryffindors and their mums, Draco used the bed to get to his feet. Once there, he wasn't entirely sure he had made the right decision. However, the loo beckoned and as he was a Malfoy, only the porcelain goddess would do.

He just hoped he made it.

* * *

Splashing cold water on his face did make him feel somewhat better. He just wasn't sure if it was the water or thoroughly emptying his stomach just now. Either way, he knew he definitely needed to brush his teeth before continuing any further.

He reached out to grab his -no, the green tooth brush in the stand. The fact that there were really two and his boy -no, lover used the red one was beside the point. Draco needed his mouth to feel less...less...less like he spent an evening drinking with Gryffindors.

Once finished, he tried again to find some hangover potion in Ron's toilet. His head really needed to stop pounding, and his vision needed to stop swimming, and his mouth needed to leave this sticky, dry feeling behind.

He was so over this hangover and he needed to be over-

Maybe after this trip to the loo.

* * *

The bath hadn't helped at all.

Well, not exactly, he didn't smell like a pub anymore which was a good start but without the hangover potion, his head was still playing Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture_.

Draco started to curse his boy -no, lover again and his mum as he reached for his -no, the towel still hanging up on the whack. Once dried off, he replaced the towel and picked up Ron's which was still discarded on the floor. Muttering a few more choice words about his boy -no lover, he finished tidying up around the bath. He had decided long ago that Ron had been raised in a pig-sty, even if he didn't know that for a fact.

Sighing, he took a seat on the toilet, in hope that his head would just stop spinning.

Maybe if he laid down on the cool tile, his head would feel better.

Couldn't hurt.

* * *

The clock told him it was almost noon by the time, he decided to risk going down the stairs to see if Ron for some gods-forsaken reason kept the hangover potion there. With a constant hand on the wall for support, he slowly made his way to the stairs.

His hangover quickly dissipated for several seconds as his eyes found Ron sitting on the sofa. He was up in Ron's bedroom _dying_ and the bloody bastard was down here having a cup of tea from that chipped tea cup that he refused to let him throw away.

Draco wanted to say something but he was afraid if he did, the room would just start spinning badly again and he would rather not land in a heap at the bottom of Ron's staircase. Biting his tongue and lip to do just that he slowly made his way down the stairs; one hand on each railing (he was that sure he was going to fall).

When he was nearing the bottom of the stairs, he heard Ron softly say, in a very soft and hopeful tone, "Did you mean it?"

Draco had absolutely no idea what Ron was talking about. He said, sharply (even more sharper than he normally would have due to his head moving onto a Strauss march), "Ron, I –"

He didn't get to finish with "...have no idea what you are talking about", before reaming him for not having any hangover potion in his toilet when his foot decided to miss a step. Tumbling down the last four stairs, Draco let out another string of explicative before landing in a very un-Malfoy heap on the floor.

"Of course you didn't," Ron muttered. "Just being stupid. Like always."

The sadness in his boy- no, lover's voice broke through the pain Draco was feeling at the moment. Though he knew the tone well, it had been months since he had actually heard it. Ron had been so dejected when he came across him in the Leaky the night they had embarked on their relation- no, fling. Draco had taken pity on him that night out of boredom, having realised that his former classmate needed nothing more than a shag to get over Hermione leaving him for Krum. Granted it was only supposed to be for one night but that tone, coupled with Ron's puppy dog looks, turned into another night, then a week, and then a month, and then _this_.

What ever _this_ was.

When Ron first held out his hand to help him to his feet, Draco didn't take it. It wasn't that he didn't trust his boy—no, lover, it was more because he was suddenly afraid of what he may have said last night completely inebriated.

"I'm not mad, Draco. I know it was just the alcohol talking," Ron continued, this time just grabbing Draco and pulling him to his feet. "I knew better than to expect anything more; you've always been honest about that."

Draco's eyes never left Ron's face. The sinking feeling continued as he realised, _he_ had definitely done something last night. He had promised Ron from the get go that he wouldn't hurt him like Hermione had; and in spite their past 'differences' he hadn't –until now.

And he hated himself at the very moment.

He was about to say something very un-Malfoyish when he felt a vial pushed into his hand as Ron said, "Here's the potion you were looking for. I have to go into the store for a bit. Just let me know when you leave."

"Why?" Draco responded. He knew he sounded pathetic but he didn't really care for it sounded like Ron was ending their relationship. His mind raced to figure out what he had said last night.

Ron just shook his head as he looked down before softly saying, "We want different things Draco. No sense in carrying on a relationship that isn't going anywhere."

"But..." Draco started. Unfortunately the words escaped him before he could continue.

"It's really okay," he watched horrified, the pounding in his head long forgotten, as Ron kissed him on the forehead. "You were honest from the beginning about what you wanted out of this. I can't blame you if I want something more."

"What do you want?" Draco whispered, his eyes closed as Ron's lips lingered on his forehead. He suddenly couldn't imagine life without Ron and all of his little ways: the constant physical affection that often lingered, the small gifts that showed up for no reason other than 'just cause', and the array of emotions that he could produce, especially the ones that were so infective that they had become Draco's drug of choice at some point.

"I want a boyfriend who will actually call me his."

Draco cringed at hearing that.

"I want a boyfriend who will actually admit he keeps things in my flat for when he stays over."

The reality slapping him in the face caused his eyes to start to burn.

"I want a boyfriend who may actually want to move in with me."

His breath slipped away when he realised just what he was loosing.

"And most of all, I want a boyfriend who may actually mean it when he says he wants us to do a binding ceremony."

Draco froze. His eyes widened as he stared at Ron who now was wiping at his cheek as his boyfriend whispered, "I'm not mad Draco. Not at all. I want more than you can give me and that's not fair to either of us."

"But...but...but..." Draco's ability to form a coherent thought long gone.

"I've been up all night thinking about what you said and the worst part is, that I spent most of that time wondering if you meant it. I can't be with someone who says things like _that_, things that I know are important to me when they are pissed."

"But—"

"So I think we should just end this now. This already hurts more than when Hermione left and I can't keep waiting for you to _maybe_ change your mind."

"But—"

"Draco, please don't do this to me. It's already killing me to know I'm having to let you go; I don't-"

Draco didn't let Ron finish as the vial of hangover potion crashed to the floor. He took a hold of the other man's face between his hands and pulled him into a bruising kiss. It was the only thing his mind could come up with to get Ron to shut up.

When he was sure that Ron couldn't interrupt him, he pulled back and whispered, "Just because I said it pissed, does not mean I wasn't genuine," though he had absolutely no idea as to what he did say to cause Ron to try and leave him. He had another thing coming to him, if he thought that Draco was going to let him go after the best months of his life. And if Ron didn't realise that them going on a second date constituted Draco's longest relationship to date, then Draco was going to show him he meant whatever the bloody hell he told his boyfriend last night.

"So you were serious about having a binding ceremony?" Ron's voice softly cracked over the question. His voice not sounding for half of those words.

It took all of Draco's years of training to be the Malfoy his parents expected not to freak out. He could not believe that when he was pissed last night, he actually asked _that_. He was figuring that he brought up moving in together if anything.

But figuring this was one of 'life's little mysteries' that Lovegood kept mentioning whenever he came around Ron's friends, he decided that keeping Ron, meant more to him than anything else, so he whispered, "Of course I did Weasel. So...is your answer..."

"Yes."

Kissing his boyfriend again, feeling the way Ron responded to him, deep down he knew this was the best thin he had done in some time –if ever.

It just didn't mean he was ever going drinking with Gryffindors again.

_Fin._


End file.
